Lessons
by fourfivesecsfromhim
Summary: John Watson is having a hard time dealing with little 5-year-old Rosie's bad behaviour and decides to spank her. Sherlock's not having any of it. Then, the tables suddenly turn. Is John really the more emotional one out of the two? Warning: slight swearing, mention of spanking of a child.


Hey guys!

I'm back with another one-shot. Basically, it's about John thinking spanking is a right method of discipline and Sherlock disagreeing. It's also about a very emotional Sherlock, which is quite rare.

Enjoy!

* * *

Sherlock Holmes never considered himself child-friendly. It's not like anyone else did, anyway... But tonight, something was different. And not only in his behaviour.

John and him were working on a case together for the first time in months. Sherlock kind of understood why Watson wasn't able to spend as much time working with him. He had his family, and although Mary was easy to get along with, their daughter Rosie set up new challenges for her parents every single day. In Sherlock's opinion, Mary and John were great parents and were very patient and caring towards the little girl. This is exactly why Sherlock was confused this afternoon. Since Mary was working late, John had brought Rosie along to Baker Street, and he seemed rather upset about something. When he asked him what was wrong, John explained that Rosie's been misbehaving all day and he just couldn't get through to her with anything. Sherlock only nodded then and took a glance at little Rosie, who was at that moment running around in the living room and hopping around on the furniture. He couldn't help but smiled lightly - he enjoyed walking around on furniture just as much. She might've gotten this "bad habit" from him the other night when he was babysitting her. It was a fun night.

The case John and him were currently working on was rather interesting: it all started with a young lady bursting through their apartment door at 2 am and whispering the words "help me" before collapsing on the floor. At least that's what the woman told the detective and his blogger after Sherlock found her at 8 in the morning. He did hear a strange noise earlier, somewhere around 2 am but was reluctant to get up and check. He figured that if someone wanted to murder him, they'd be in his room in seconds so he just decided to wait a bit. But no one came, and so Sherlock peacefully went back to sleep and slumbered wonderfully throughout the night. Once he was up the next morning, he was rather surprised to find a young lady lying on the floor in front of the door. He waited until she woke up, sipping on his morning tea.

"Help!" Shrieked said woman, suddenly jerking awake, causing Sherlock to jump and not only choke on his tea but also spill it all over himself. Sherlock spent the next few minutes coughing while the woman stood there, apologizing desperately. Once Sherlock caught his breath, he put his mug down and pointed at the chair.

"Sit down, please. I rarely have clients this early."

The woman, still embarrassed, lowered her bag next to the chair as she lowered herself onto it, brushing a bit of hair out of her face.

"I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Holmes" she said quietly, not looking into his eyes. "I must have fainted once I got here. I didn't mean to sleep on your floor all evening. I assure you this is nothing like me."

Sherlock shrugged.

"Please. I'm used to strange cases, Miss..." His voice trailed off as if he was looking for her name in his mind, though they both knew she didn't give it to him.

"Erica Sangster" the woman extended her hand and Sherlock firmly shook it. "A friend of mine told me about you, Mr. Holmes. I..." She sighed deeply, trying to calm her breathing before she spoke up again. "I had something very strange happen to me yesterday, late in the afternoon. I don't think anyone could help me but you."

Sherlock looked deep into the girl's ocean-like, blue eyes and begun his deductions. Her hair was freshly cut which she already regretted since she kept trying to pull her collar up to be able to hide her short locks. She must have also visited a nail salone a few weeks ago: the polish was already wearing off a bit and she also seemed to bite it, most likely out of habit and newly, out of nervousness. The dirt on her shoes was a perfect map to show where she came from and how she came: the only part of town that had much rain yesterday was the west side and her shoes were covered in fresh mud, meaning she lived near a lake. If she had enough time to think about all of this, she likely would've taken a taxi and changed her shoes but she was frightened. It was obvious she didn't drive. A woman like her would keep her car keys on the same chain as the others, yet there were no more than 2 keys on the chain she was holding, none of them being car keys. Besides, judging by her thick glasses she had incredibly bad eyesight. She blinked frequently as if she had just recently taken out her contacts; they must've irritated her eyes. The hair on her clothing belonged to 2 cats, a red and a white one. The fact that she came alone was the proof that she wasn't in a serious relationship with anyone, let alone marriage. She was around the age of 24 yet she already haid a few grey hairs. It must've been stress.

"Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock looked up at Ms. Sangster. The woman looked genuinely worried; Sherlock hasn't spoken a word for the last 3 or so minutes.

"Yes, sorry" Sherlock shook his head to clear his thoughts and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands together and tucking them under his chin, in his usual "thinking-detective" pose. The idea of calling John to help him crossed his mind for a second but he didn't want to wake his friend up at such an early hour. "Tell me what happened and we'll see what we can do."

The modesty in his voice was something he learnt from John. He was damn sure he'd be able to solve the case. The woman who came in was simple. Ordinary people were simple. The cases of these people at most kept him occupied for 2 or 3 days, because he was a genius. A high-functioning sociopath. As such, he was now desperately craving a serious, brainwork-requiring, thought-provoking, hard case. That... or cocain. But he knew better. John would've killed him anyway.

"Alright" the young lady gulped and ran her shaking hand through her hair before starting. "I... Yesterday..." She gulped one more time before speaking up. "I found my brother's dead body on the kitchen floor." Tears filled her eyes as she began to sniffle. Sherlock felt a pang go through his heart but began to feel uncomfortable, ad he did everytime someone started crying. He didn't know how to handle it. He looked towards John's chair _. He'd know what to do._

"I'm sorry" the girl finally caught her breath. "Mr. Holmes..." Sherlock looked up at her at the mention of his name. "My brother's been dead for 5 years." Sherlock's eyes widened as he leaned on his knees. The woman sniffled once more. "Someone dug up his grave and brought him to my house."

Sherlock was thrilled. He tried not to sound too happy or excited as he asked the girl a series of questions. Showing sympathy wasn't one of his strengths but with the help of John, he could at least try and act like it. It worked well, most of the time.

Within just 4 hours, Sherlock asked the woman everything he needed to know and took a cab to her house, promising he'd get Watson sometime in the afternoon to take a look at the body. Sherlock found shocking and confusing clues in that house but only once he got back to 221B did he allow himself to let loose and do a bit of a happy dance. He was on fire.

Now he was pacing around in the room, telling Watson about all the informations he knew was appropriate to say around Rosie. It's not like she was paying any attention to them though.

"There were blood stains in the sink, John." He stated as he stopped in front of the window and looked out of it, more out of habit than anything else. "It obviously couldn't have been the brother's. He's way too dead."

John frowned at that. Sherlock Holmes was the only person that could say "way too dead" about a person and get away with it.

"Rosie, I've asked you to stop hopping around the furniture." The calmness in his voice was forced and Sherlock turned around just enough to be able to take a look at him: he was clenching his teeth and angrily typing away on his laptop. Rosie just rolled her eyes and ran in the other direction. John shot her a reprimanding glance.

"Do you think it belongs to the person who took the body?" He asked Sherlock before turning towards Rosie. "Rosamund, stop playing with the kitchen knives!" He raised his voice with anger and ran after the girl. Sherlock watched as he yanked the objects out of her hand and grabbed Rosie, a bit more violently than necessary. He drug her to a nearby chair and sat her down, pointing a finger at her. "You misbehave one more time it'll end in tears."

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed together. _He couldn't possibly mean... Could he? After seeing so much violence..._

"You were saying?" John looked up at him. Rosie was staring at the ground, bouncing a ball in her hands. She seemed ready to burst anytime. She was defiant. Like John.

"Umm..." It took Sherlock a few more seconds to be able to focus again. "I don't think so. The girl... Erica Sangster's a bit suspicious for me. I just have this feeling about her. I don't know what it is..." His voice trailed off as he tried to get to the bottom of this case. "Not yet."

What happened next was extremely quick. Sherlock took a quick glimpse at Rosie and could already tell. She was staring at John's laptop furiously, raising the ball in her hand. Sherlock's eyes widened.

"ROSAMUND MARY WATSON!"

As soon as the ball hit John's laptop, John jumped up with rage, causing the laptop to crash to the ground and grabbed Rosie who was now screaming in terror.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU?"

"JOHN!"

Sherlock didn't remember ever shouting at Watson like that but he just couldn't believe his eyes.

"JOHN, STOP IT!"

He rushed over to the two of them where Rosie was crying histerically, desperately trying to wiggle off his father's leg, screaming for mercy as he pulled her over his knee for a spanking. He's already lifted up his skirt - more like yanked it up - and seemed to think about removing her stockings, too. Sherlock had to put an end to this.

"JOHN!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, pulling Rosie firmly but gently off his father's lap and placing the screaming girl behind him. "JOHN, CALM DOWN!"

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" John nearly knocked Sherlock over while trying to reach for Rosie but he held him back. "SHE NEEDS TO LEARN!"

"JOHN!" Seeing no better option, Sherlock pushed John against the wall, pinning him to it tight. "JUST CALM DOWN!"

"LET ME GO, SHERLOCK!" John wiggled around like crazy but Sherlock managed to use his bigger frame against him.

"LOOK AT YOURSELF, JOHN!"

John froze. He was still breathing heavily but stopped moving, looking into Sherlock's eyes. He never thought he'd ever see him worried. Especially this worried.

"John..." Sherlock was also gasping for air. He kept a firm grip on his shoulder as he spoke. "You're not thinking straight. You need to calm down." He whispered the last sentences so Rosie couldn't hear them. "This isn't the right thing to do and you know it. Go get some fresh air and come back once you cooled down. This is _not_ you."

John's heavy breathing slowly but surely calmed down. Sherlock was right. He could feel it. The anger raging inside him was out of this world. But he was not one to break his promises.

"It's very right, Sherlock, and I _have_ to do it. If this is the only way to get through to her, then so be it. I'm not going to hurt her. It won't be more than 3 or 4 taps."

"You won't be able to control your strength." Sherlock didn't think spanking in general was a good idea but Watson seemed really determinated. "Not like this. You need to take a walk or something. Don't do this. Not now."

"Sherlock." John looked into his friend's eyes, his voice hushed but serious. "It has to happen now, or else she won't learn anything. You can't stop me, Sherlock. She needs to learn her lesson."

At this point, Sherlock knew he couldn't convince John. Instead, he tried something else. His heart was beating fast with nervousness but it was for Rosie's own good. He took a deep breath.

"Let me do it then."

John's eyes widened. He glanced over Sherlock's shoulder at a still crying Rosie. She couldn't hear them.

"You?" John's voice was full of doubt and shock, lowering his volume even more. "Why you?"

"Because you're too upset to do it right and I'm not. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to control my strength and comfort Rosie after. For her own good. It has to be me."

A spanking "done right". No spanking was "done right", Sherlock new it. But he couldn't think of anything else.

John once again peered over at Rosie who was shaking with fear. Of him. Not Sherlock, but him. Maybe Sherlock was right. Maybe he wouldn't be capable to do this right.

"You sure?" He looked deep into Sherlock's eyes. He knew he hasn't handled anything like this before but he trusted him. He was a calm and deliberate man. He knew Sherlock wouldn't hurt his little girl.

Sherlock nodded, his heart starting to race.

"Go and take a walk, John. I got this."

As he let go of John's shirt, the man took a few breaths and slowly nodded before taking his coat and walking out the door. Sherlock wasn't able to turn around just yet. He's never been this nervous before.

"Uncle?" A tiny, shaking voice interrupted his thoughts and he closed his eyes tightly. _He had to be firm. He had to do this. He didn't want to, but he had to_.

Slowly, he turned around and faced his goddaughter. She was still upset but she wasn't scared anymore. She obviously thought her dad leaving meant she got out of the spanking. Sherlock wished more than anything she was right.

"Come, Rosamund. Sit down." He sat down where John was sitting before and patted the seat next to him. He was sweating bullets. _You can do this, Holmes. You can do this._

"Uncle..." Rosie's voice was now uncertain, asif she knew something wasn't right. Her lower lip trembled the slightest bit and fear slowly returned to her face. Sherlock's heart broke into a million pieces.

"Let's just talk, sweetheart. Come here." He said as calmly as possible.

He hoped the word "talk" would calm the girl down enough to sit down next to him. He didn't want to chase her or pull her. He felt like a monster already.

Thankfully, Rosie did calm down a bit and slowly walked over to him, lowering herself onto the seat next to him. Sherlock sighed deeply, turning towards the little girl and looked deep into her eyes. That immediately made him look down. She was still a bit scared.

"Rosie." Sherlock started, pursing his lips together. "Do you know why your dad was so angry with you?"

Rosie hung her head down, staring at her feet.

"Because I threw the ball at his laptop."

"No, Rosie." Sherlock's voice was hushed, but stern. "That's not why."

Rosie shrugged.

Sherlock sighed. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible but he also wanted to make sure the little girl understood what she was being punished for.

"Rosie, your dad's been very worried about you today. Look at me, please." He tried to sound as gentle as possible, and Rosie looked into his eyes. _Shit_ , Sherlock thought. _I just made this 100 times harder_. "He may have seemed angry, but he was worried. You nearly hurt yourself multiple times today because you kept disobeying him. That is naughty behaviour, Rosie. This can't happen again. I have to make sure of that."

Rosie knew what was happening. Sherlock didn't grab at her arm or touch her yet, which made her calm enough not to run away, but she started to sniffle. Sherlock closed his eyes shut.

"I don't want to do this, Rosie" he told the crying little one. His own eyes prickled. "I really don't. But your dad would have been too harsh and I didn't want you to get hurt." He extended a hand towards her, trying to bring his shaking under control. "Come here, Rosie. Please don't make me chase you. It won't hurt too much, I promise. It'll be over soon."

His voice cracked in the middle of the last sentence but he managed to keep a straight face. Rosie's eyes were welled with tears but she complied. She probably saw no other option.

As the little girl walked towards him, Sherlock felt his heart sink and a lump forming in his throat, but he tried not to show too mamy emotions just yet. He'd need all of it once they were done to be able to comfort Rosie. God, he wished they were there yet.

Rosie arrived next to him just as he took his jacket off and rolled his sleeve up on his right arm, making sure nothing else would come in contact with her backside but his open hand. He gently took her wrist and she allowed him to bend her over his knee, bottom up. She was crying softly.

"I love you, my dear." Sherlock whispered as he rubbed her back before placing it firmly on her hip to keep her in place. "You're okay. It'll be over soon."

He gently pulled her thick skirt back, just to be able to tell how hard to spank. He could cover Rosie's entire small bottom with his hand and he was terrified of screwing this up. Hell, he already screwed up when he didn't convince John to find another method of discipline. This whole thing was screwed up.

But he couldn't turn back now, could he? He gave Rosie's back another reassuring rub before lifting his right hand in the air and keeping it there. He couldn't bring himself to bring his hand down. He just couldn't.

Tears started raining down his face, this time he couldn't fight them back. He quickly wiped his sleeve across his face and lifted his hand again, determinated to bring it down this time.

"Sherlock!" His head whipped up at the calling of his name. Mrs. Hudson was standing at the door in utter disbelief, with tea in her hands. "What is going on here?"

Sherlock barely had time to shift Rosie into a sitting position on his lap before he started crying, unable to make out a word. His entire body was shaking as he did. He could hear Mrs. Hudson putting the tea down.

"Sherlock!" Moments later, said man felt a pair of tiny arms wrap around his neck and he squeezed a crying Rosie close to him, as tight as he could without hurting her. Mrs. Hudson ran up to the two and hugged both of them, placing her chin on top of his head. He never saw Sherlock Holmes cry before.

* * *

It was almost 6 o'clock when John finally got back home. Not home, but back to 221B. He kept having to remind himself that he didn't live on Baker Street anymore. It sure felt like home though.

Once he came through the door, he was surprised to see Sherlock sitting in the living room, waiting for him. It also seemed a bit asif he'd been crying but John couldn't tell for sure. He was Sherlock Homes after all. Whoever heard of Sherlock Holmes crying?

"Hello." He greeted, stopping a few meters away from him. "How are things? You alright?"

Sherlock nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. He didn't seem alright.

"With you?"

John sighed before nodding and sitting down on the couch across Sherlock, leaning on his knees.

"Good." He kept bopping his head up and down. "I got things sorted out in my head, I guess."

Sherlock nodded. In John's opinion, he was unusually quiet.

"How..." He tried to get his thoughts together before continuing. "How did it go? With the... You know."

Sherlock looked up at him. His eyes showed hurt and he immediately looked down. John felt a pang go through his heart.

"Sherlock." He shifted a little closer to him and reluctantly placed a hand on his knee. He knew Sherlock didn't like to be touched but he didn't know how else to do this. "I know it's not easy, mate. It hurts you more than it hurts her."

Sherlock had to hold himself back from shouting "f*ck that sh*t". He hated that phrase. It would've hurt both of them bad, just not in the same way.

"Have you ever done it before?" He asked John, staring at his friend's hand on his knee. John sighed before slowly removing his hand and leaning back on the sofa. He shook his head.

"Today... would've been the first time." He looked down, guilty. "I can't thank you enough for taking it over. You were right. I couldn't have done it the right way."

Sherlock looked up at John before taking a quick glance towards the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson was hiding behind the wall, patiently waiting. She gave Sherlock a reassuring nod. Sherlock nodded back. It was time.

"I didn't do it, John."

No one spoke. The room grew uncomfortably quiet. Sherlock couldn't read John's facial expression.

"I couldn't." Sherlock finally said. "I'm sorry." His eyebrows furrowed together before he shook his head and looked John straight in the eye. "No, I'm not. I'm not sorry at all. Spanking isn't right, John. You have to acknowledge this."

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock!" John threw his head back in disbelief. "If you're planning on showing me studies and researches on spanking you might as well give up now because-

"He won't."

Mrs. Hudson's unexpected voice immediately cut John off and he looked around, rather confused.

"He won't because I already told him you wouldn't care about such things." The landlady walked into the living room and sat next to John, giving him a stern look. "Although the data he found is quite convincing. However, I had three children on my own and I trust you'll take a bit of advice from me, John Watson. I need to have a talk with you."

John didn't like being talked to as a child and felt more than embarrassed. His cheeks were flushed.

"Mrs. Hudson-"

"It's my turn to talk, young man." She told him firmly, causing him to shut his mouth immediately. Sherlock smiled smally. Without Hudders, England really would fall. "All I'm asking you is to listen. What you do with that advice afterwards is up to you."

Still blushing, John sighed and nodded.

"Very well, then." He said. "I'm listening.

If anyone would've told John Watson a few hours ago that Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock Holmes would talk him out of spanking his daughter, he would've laughed. He wasn't laughing now.

He was ashamed. Sitting next to Mrs. Hudson still, he buried his face in his hands and sighed deeply. He couldn't believe he had been so blind. Clearly, respect can't be taught by violence. Even if it's "mild".

Soon enough, he felt Mrs. Hudson's fragile but strong hand on his back, rubbing it gently.

"You see, Sherlock" Mrs. Hudson smiled. "No need for all those studies."

John shook his head before standing up and hanging his head down, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Actually, I might take a look at them sometime." He admitted quietly. "Thank you... you two. I didn't know I needed this but I did. I... I was so stupid."

Sherlock tilted his head to the right.

"Have you learnt your lesson, John Watson?" He teased, keeping a straight face. John laughed through his nose, nodding slowly.

"I did, I did. For a lifetime."

"One Watson learned his lesson without being hit." Sherlock observed, looking into John's eyes. "So will the other one."

John smiled at him in disbelief before shaking his head and putting out his hand for a handshake. Sherlock shook his hand immediately, and the two smiled at each other, thinking about all the things they've learned from each other.

Mrs. Hudson said goodbye to them a few minutes later with a kiss on both of their heads - appreciated by John, not so much by Sherlock. Rosie was sleeping in Sherlock's room and John stayed the night since they had a lot of work to do. Watson gave the case the title "The Teleporting Body".

John Watson never even thought of spanking his daughter after that night. The lesson he learnt was something he'd never forget, thanks to Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock Holmes.

His family.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave some feedback bellow and feel free to give me any suggestions if you have some! Have a great day! :)

~ fourfivesecsfromhim


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